“You’re going to be a mine of information for the police.”
“I shall tell them what I can. If indeed they come to me.
I looked at him quickly.
“Why wouldn’t they? You can bet they’ll talk to everyone who ever laid eyes on her.”
He nodded.
“Without doubt. But unless she happens to have my name written down in her purse, there’s no reason why they should even think of me. Our connection was ten uous, to put it mildly. She didn’t live here, didn’t work for me. We haven’t any real connection at all.”
So he didn’t need to concern himself. He could just go on lounging around listening to his music and chewing on his lotus, having tenuous connections with people who got shot in the head on clifftops, or pushed out of eighth storey windows.
“They’ll be here,” I promised, “And a lot rougher than last time.”
“I see.” He looked at me sideways. “Look, I appreciate the trouble you’ve taken coming out here to tell me about poor Flower. It’s late at night, and I have a visitor coming. How would you like a thousand dollars?”
“I came out here,” I told him slowly, “In the hope I’d catch you burning the papers, or whatever. To give it to you straight, Somerset, I’d a half-assed notion it could have been you killed her.”
“And now?”
“I don’t know what to think.”
“A thousand dollars is a wonderful aid to clear thinking.”
“No thanks, I already have a client.”
“You could be important,” he mused. “Yes very important, if this investigation gets out of hand. Let me help you think. What time did this thing happen?”
“Around nine forty—nine forty-five.”
“And you came straight from there out to this house? Well, you needn’t bother to answer. The distance involved and the time you arrived tells me that. You had to come directly here.”
“So what does that prove?”
“I was already here,” he pointed out.
“True. But you could have been here just five minutes ahead of me. Five seconds for that matter.”
“Exactly. Now think, how did I get here?”
“We have things called automobiles these days. You could probably afford one if you saved your pennies.”
“Good, good. I have three to be precise. You will find them out in the garage. And an experienced detective ought to be able to judge whether they’ve been out recently. Come.”
I followed him out into the garden and round to the big white garage. He snapped switches and waved an arm.
“Help yourself,” he invited.
I prowled around, laying hands on cold engines and exhaust pipes.
“None of these have been riding tonight,” I admitted.
“Thank you. I could have come home on the trolley car of course, but we don’t have a line out here.”
Whether I liked it or not, I could not deny the very strong evidence that he was telling the truth. And the killer would hardly call a cab at the scene of the crime and have himself driven straight home.
“So why the thousand dollars?”
He leaned against the wall of the garage watching my inspection.
“Look at it from my point of view. Today, the police came. I was only one of a dozen people, possibly more. A routine enquiry into Brookman’s death. By tonight they’ll have realized I know nothing and they’ve probably written me off the books. But they will find it extremely odd if they have to come again tomorrow in connection with a second murder. Very odd indeed. Even in police work, I imagine coincidence has its reasonable limits. I’d like you to forget my involvement in this.”
I patted the bonnet of a this year’s shiny Cadillac.
“Save your money Mr. Somerset. Cops’ll be here by morning, anyway.”
He frowned quickly.
“You’re determined to make trouble for me?”
“Not me. I won’t say a word. And I’d appreciate it if you’d keep me out of this. You know, tit for tat?”
“Then how——”
Very patiently, I spelled it out for him.
“This is homicide. To you, a cop is a cop, and you see hundreds of them every day. But there are only a handful who deal with cases of homicide. It’s routine that every man looks at the corpse where there’s no identification, or even if there is. So the men who came to question you today will see Flower, either tonight or tomorrow morning. And they will remember where they last saw her. And they will be back to ask you what you know about it. Could I give you a small piece of advice?”
“I see. Yes, I see that,” he muttered. “This is terrible. What did you say, advice? What kind of advice?”
“When they come, keep your thousand dollars in your pocket. They can get very stuffy about things like that.”
But he wasn’t listening. All the confidence had oozed out of him, and he was a badly worried man. I wondered why.
“Well I’d better get going. Wouldn’t do for the law to find me here,” I said, walking back outside. “They wouldn’t like it if they thought I came straight to you instead of them. I might have saved them hours of work by identifying Flower.”
“Yes, yes,” he muttered absently.
I left him pacing disconsolately up and down as I drove away. Soon after I emerged on to the Beach Road another car came towards me. It was a powerful white Italian sports model, and the headlights were so bright I was momentarily dazzled. Slowing, I pulled over to the side of the road and watched my rear mirror. The newcomer swung into Somerset’s driveway and disappeared from view. I thought about going back to find out who it was, decided against it.
The lump on my head wasn’t contributing to the general gaiety, but I still had to make one more call before I hit the sack. Avoiding the center of town I headed out into the lightly wooded country on the far side. There was very little traffic around, and fifteen minutes I was on the quiet side road that led to Rose Suffolk’s. Soon after that I was turning into the big forecourt, where colored spotlights played on the wood beam manor-house imitation that was one of the best night spots for miles around.
My first stop was in the men’s room, where I washed up and tried to straighten my appearance. A wadded paper towel soaked in icy water made very good friends with my lump, and for a few blissful seconds the throbbing eased off. Then I was ready to make an appearance in public.
The bar was busy and I had to wait a while for service. All around me people seemed to be enjoying life. They were talking and laughing, taking an occasional sip. Here and there a young couple sat, perfectly content to be neither talking nor laughing, but simply looking at one another, which was enough in itself. Everybody in the whole wide world was with somebody else. Except me, naturally. My only company was a slowly returning throb in the head.
“It’s bad for a man to drink alone.”
I turned, and there was the proprietor in person, Rose Suffolk.
“Hallo Rose. Can I get you something?”
“Too early. I’ll come and sit with you though, smoke one of your cigarets.”
We threaded our way through, looking for a space to park. Several people spoke to her, and she had a word or a smile for each one. Finally I located a small table when the occupants were getting ready to leave. Another man tried to step in front of me but I used an elbow and he drew back, growling something about pushing people.
“That’s good.”
Rose settled back and relaxed. I made with the Old Favorites, and she inhaled luxuriously.
“That’s good, too. You know Mark, I haven’t been off my dogs since six-thirty. And there’s still another four hours before we fold.”
“Don’t kid me, Rose. You love it.”
I hadn’t seen her in months but she still looked good as ever. In show business you can meet a hundred people before you encounter a smart one. Rose Suffolk was one of those. Originally a torch singer, she realized one day that she’d got as far as she was going. Not that she w
as unsuccessful, far from it. She played what they call in the trade the saloon circuit. And that does not mean a succession of crummy bars. It means the best night spots in every major city, a week here, two weeks there. She had a reasonable voice, and a tremendous style for putting a number across. Gradually she built up a repertoire of point numbers, for which she was best known. She was well thought of by the public and show people alike, but suddenly she realized life was set. At twenty-four she was at the top of her particular tree. There was no reason to suppose she couldn’t go on exactly as she was for twenty more years, maybe longer. As she once put it to me, it dawned on her as she was doing the two a.m. spot at the Green Derby in Las Vegas. Looking at the people, and lapping up the applause she had a clear vision that one day she’d be going through the same routines for their children. And it did not appeal in the slightest. That was when she decided there was more to life than living in hotel rooms, even the best hotels, which they were. Earning top salary as she did, she began a saving campaign. She accepted all and any guest shots on television and radio, anything at all that helped to swell the bankroll. Then, when she was ready, she looked around for the right property. Rose was always a gal who knew exactly what she wanted and was content to wait until she found it.
“Aren’t you going to talk to me?” she said suddenly.
I realized my thoughts had been wandering.
“Sorry Rose, I was thinking. About you.”
“Oh, well,” she pouted, but considerably mollified. “What about me?”
“I was thinking about the old days, before you bought this place. Back then, there were only three girls for me. Ella, Peggy Lee and Rose Suffolk. Don’t you miss it?”
“Oh sure, sometimes. It was a lot of fun, and naturally I miss a lot of it. But I’m my own boss here. If I want time off, I just take it. I’m not looking for any handouts, and short of a general depression I never will be, maybe not even with one. I have regular hours, not the same hours as everyone else perhaps, but regular. I haven’t been in an airplane in months and when I eat, it isn’t a quick sandwich and coffee in some airport lounge or on a train. Do I look bad on it?”
I couldn’t have a better excuse to look at her, and she was well worth the looking. Her long shiny black hair was pulled flat against her head and tied in some kind of bun at the back. The finely chiselled face was tanned a light brown, highlighting the warm redness of her mouth against the sparkling teeth. She wore a halter dress of red silk, gathered against the small firm breasts and hugging the slim waist before falling to the long slender legs.
“Wow!” I announced.
She chuckled.
“You see. I’m not so bad for an old retired lady. Which raises a point. If I’m so wow, how come you’ve played the duck for my place for so long?”
“I have a broken heart,” I told her. “On account of the lady seems to be spoke for.”
She nodded seriously.
“How well do you know Jake?”
“Not too well. Funny thing, I was sort of hoping I might run across him here tonight.”
She wagged a finger.
“You see. Even now you didn’t come to see me at all. You came on business.”
“I didn’t mention business,” I cut in quickly.
“You didn’t have to. With Jake, everything’s business. The guy never relaxes.”
“Better complain to him. He’ll be here any minute.”
She followed my gaze towards the entrance. Clyde F. Hamilton, the hoodlum with the family tree, was standing in the doorway. Rose turned and placed her lips close to my ear. I could have wished her motives had been different, but all she wanted was to whisper.
“Do you know Clyde?”
“Met him,” I replied briefly.
“Funny thing about Clyde. He’s good-looking, beautifully dressed, and his education would take him anywhere. But I can’t get with him at all. I’ll tell you Mark, the guy gives me the creeps.”
I grinned to myself. There’s a lot of hoo-hah talked about women’s intuition, but Rose’s was a long street ahead of Florence Digby’s.
“I don’t have any opinion about him,” I told her. “Only met the guy for a couple of minutes.”
She looked at me shrewdly, but said nothing. Jake Martello had followed Hamilton inside and the heavy face creased into smiles as he caught sight of Rose. He waved and came over, Hamilton close behind.
“Rose sweetie, you look like a million.”
“Hi Jake.”
“Preston, you wouldn’t be stealing a feller’s girl, now would you?”
He was jocular, but there was a trace of anxiety behind the tone. Martello was widely known to have it very bad for Rose.
“Not me Jake. Just warming a seat till you got here.”
“And I’m not your girl,” snapped Rose.
I watched the glances between them, but could not decide whether they were kidding or not.
“Good evening Rose, Preston.”
Nobody had spoken to Hamilton, so he thought he ought to get the ball moving himself.
“Hallo Clyde,” said Rose coldly.
I nodded at him.
“Well now this is real nice,” beamed Jake. “Only thing, we don’t have enough chairs.”
“Oh boy,” said Rose disgustedly. “You should carry your own barn door to drop on people.”
“Now, now honey you know I didn’t——”
“It’s all right.” I got up. “I have to be going anyway. Tell you what, Jake, how would it be if we stepped out for a smoke. Your friend here can keep Rose company till you get back.”
“Fine, fine. Suits me, Look after the lady, Clyde.”
Hamilton sat down. Rose smiled up at me.
“I’ve never been stood up for a smoke before. You coming back?”
“No lady, I don’t think so. I just don’t have that wanted feeling.”
“Preston here has class,” voted Martello. “He knows when it’s time to blow.”
I winked at Rose and followed Jake out through the door. We stood out on the lighted porch, and he took a deep breath.
“Smell that air,” he suggested. “What a night. A real beautiful night.”
There was a flash among the parked cars. Jake grabbed at his heart and grunted. I put my arm around him and pulled him with me to the ground. A motor roared in the blackness and I strained my eyes towards the sound, but the gunman wasn’t using any lights. “Clyde,” muttered Jake. “Get Clyde.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
I HURRIED BACK INSIDE, Hamilton and Rose were sitting where I’d left them, not speaking. I bent over and kept my voice low.
“Jake’s been shot. He wants you Hamilton. On the porch.”
He got up fast, and gave me one swift vicious stare before going out. Rose had put her hand to her mouth and looked frightened.
“What happened?”
“We just got outside the door, a gun went off, Jake was hit.”
“Is he—is it bad?”
“Can’t tell. Is there a doctor here?”
She nodded and got up.
“I saw Dr. Andrews in the restaurant a little while ago.”
“Get him, honey. And the law, get them too.”
“All right.”
I went back. One or two people stared at me curiously, wondering what all the comings and goings were about. Outside, Hamilton was kneeling beside his boss.
“He passed out. Looks like his heart, but I daren’t touch him to find out.”
“If he’s still alive, it isn’t his heart. That’s one place that’s guaranteed fatal. There’s a doctor coming out.”
I pulled out my Old Favorites and sucked down great belts of smoke. Hamilton stood up beside me.
“Is this your doing Preston?”
He said it quite conversationally, although we both knew an affirmative answer would be the same as a death warrant.
“No. We just got outside the door, and bang. It came from over among those cars.”
; “Then let’s go take a look.”
I pulled at his arm.
“No point. The guy drove off in a hurry as soon as Jake went down.”
“Uh huh. How many shots?”
“Just the one.”
“Pretty good. Doesn’t sound like an amateur, does it?”
“It was a fair shot,” I agreed. “But don’t forget where we’re standing. From out there we must have looked like a target in a fairground.”
He pursed his lips and nodded.
“Fair comment. You could have set this up, even though you didn’t do it yourself.”
“Why would I want to?”
He grinned evilly.
“My dear Preston, I never concern myself with people’s motives. I’m not some kind of welfare worker. I’m just interested in their actions. Like did you put Jake on the spot, or did you not.”
“Not. Listen Hamilton, I don’t have any more regard for you than you do me. But in a loose kind of way, we’re about on the same side in this. The time might come we need each other. So cut out the amateur hawkshaw bit, and let’s think about our visitors.”
“Visitors?”
“Sure, police are on their way.”
“Mr. Martello won’t like that,” he frowned. “But I can see it had to be done.”
The door behind us opened, and Rose hurried out with a silver-haired, distinguished looking man.
“I’m a doctor,” he announced briskly. “What’s going on here?”
“This man’s been shot,” I told him.
He looked at me keenly and went down on his knees beside Jake.
“H’m.”
Rose came and stood next to me, gripping my hand tightly.
“Have you called the police?” I whispered.
“Yes. Tell me Mark, is he very bad?”
Before I could answer the doctor straightened up.
“This man is in very bad shape. Is there an ambulance coming?”
“No,” she hesitated. “I wasn’t sure——”
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